


Bucky's Confession.

by WinterTheWriter



Series: One Brick At A Time [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Civil War Thing, Confession, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unhealthy Coping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 13:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15819924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterTheWriter/pseuds/WinterTheWriter
Summary: Bucky tells Tony what he should've told him long ago.





	Bucky's Confession.

**Author's Note:**

> New Monday, new update! Here's a little bit of angst for you. Bucky telling Tony about killing his parents, because we all knew this had to happen at some point. 
> 
> Enjoy~.

“I killed your parents.”

Tony’s hand slips on the wrench he’s forcing down on a heavy bolt, and the tool clatters to the floor carelessly. His head bows like he’s praying, which is hilarious and horrifying at the same time. Bucky watches him with pursed lips, wringing his hands together from the doorway of Tony’s shop.

No one says anything for several moments. 

Just when Bucky’s actually about to say something more, or leave, or do /something/, Tony inhales this big, deep, shuddering breath and weakly, gruffly asks, “What…do you expect me to do with that information, Bucky?” 

That’s not what he expected. Bucky blinks and takes a half-step forward, not that Tony can see him with his back to the door. “I just—well, you—I just thought you should know,” he stammers, hating how childish he feels, how /guilty/ and dark. 

“Why?”

“Why—because that’s…this is a /big thing/, Tony, and I hate myself for it, and for not giving you the chance to say goodbye, and this — this is something I should tell you. You think it was a car accident, but it was…more than that. It was me. Neither of your parents died from that crash, Tony, so I had to—,”

“You should've told me,” he hisses out quietly, rolling back on his work stool, before roaring out, “WHEN YOU FIRST GOT HERE!” Tony slams his hands down on the table, makes Bucky jump and jerk back and grimace because /he’s/ not the one who should be afraid, before Tony whirls around and glares at him with red, wet, furious eyes of grief. 

Aside from Tony’s heavy, haggard breathing, it’s silent again. 

“I’m — I’m sorry,” Bucky forces out, barely above a whisper. “I’m /so/ fucking sorry, Tony. It wasn’t me, I swear it wasn’t me, but I know it was my hands and I’m—,”

“Does Steve know?” 

“…I—no.”

“Bullshit. Of course he does. He knows everything about you.” Tony laughs like the sound is being torn out of him against his will. “Does /Koschei/ know?” 

Momentarily unable to speak, Bucky just stares helplessly at him before shrugging his shoulders and whispering out. “He…found out accidentally.” Which is true enough. 

“Right. Right! ‘Course! And /all/ of you have been keeping it from me.” Tony swallows thickly and shakes his head, angrily swiping at his eyes with the back of his hands to stop any tears from falling. 

“I wouldn’t let them,” Bucky tells him, wanting to step closer but unable to move, frozen in place with guilt like the sickest kind of irony. “I made them promise. I wanted — I wanted to do it on my own terms. I was a coward, Tony.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, not even looking at him. “Yeah, you were.” Bucky squeezes his eyes shut tightly, turning his head towards the floor. “And now — I made you an arm, Bucky. I let you into my home. I covered your medical bills. And you let me do that, /let me befriend you/, all the while hiding that /you/ were the sick fuck who killed my parents?” 

“It wasn’t —,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, it wasn’t you like the Master isn’t Koschei and the Hulk isn’t Bruce. Well guess what, Buckaroo! /They/ might not be real but the damage sure as hell is.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Bucky grits out, fists curling at his sides as he latches onto the anger through the guilt, lets it melt the ice. “You think I don’t spend every moment of my /life/ thinking about that? Tony, the things I’ve done — the things /he/ did, as me, they haunt me /un-fucking-ceasingly/. You can beat me up or try to kill me or kick me out — or even take my arm! — but I /swear/ to you it won’t be punishment compared to what I do to myself every day.” 

Tony stares at him for a moment, regards him with that air of arrogance he doesn’t actually have, lips pursed. He nods to himself, crosses his arms, and finally, he starts to laugh. Lowly, ruefully, with his eyes downcast. “Okay.”

“I don’t —….wait, what?” Blinking, Bucky’s tension drops from him as confusion takes its place. 

“Okay. I forgive you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t trust you very much right now but at least you /did/ tell me. Least I didn’t hear about it from some video in a warehouse or something.” 

“I don’t…understand.”

“Well, I mean. I knew already.” Tony leans back against his work table, oh-so-casually. The words take a moment to process, during which time Bucky just gapes at him in a mix of anger, confusion, and just the slightest tinge of fear. “I knew within the first few weeks of your arrival that you squeezed my mom’s life out of her neck and bashed my dad’s skull in. What — did you /actually/ think I didn’t do any research on you when you showed up? You kept mumbling in Russian in your sleep. Nat’s obviously heard of you so she tipped me off. No biggie.” But he’s sneering the words, the calm so fake it circles back around into fury.

“No big—/Tony/, do you have /any/ idea how I’ve fucking tortured myself over the thought of telling you this?” Now Bucky /does/ step closer, but Tony just watches him without a care in the world. 

“You did the right thing, in the end. Bucky, I know it wasn’t you who killed my parents. That’s not what hurt me. What hurt me is how you’ve been /lying to me/ about it for months, when it should’ve been the first damn thing out of your mouth.” 

“I know. I /know/, Tony, I know, and—,”

“Yeah, you’re sorry, I got it.” He waves a hand dismissively, sniffling with a watery, sad attempt at a smile. “Look. You made me feel some type of way when you dropped that bomb on me — with no warning, thank you very much — but now you’ve groveled and explained and this /isn’t/ news to me, so how about this? I don’t do big emotional heart-to-hearts. It’s not my thing. But you’re forgiven, and we’re cool, as long as you don’t lie to me again and never tell /anyone/ how my allergies made my eyes look watery there.”

“…Is it….healthy for you to just…push that down and move on so quickly?”

Tony just laughs. 

Bucky can’t help but quirk his lips up with it, as frazzled and shaken as he feels. Tony pushes off his table and strides over to him, holding out a hand. “So, whaddya say, Terminator? Leave the past in the past?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, Tony, sure,” he nods, shaking his hand slowly, like he’s placating a wild animal. “Um…thank you. For. Y’know.”

“Yeah, the mushy talk is done now.”

“But I just—,”

“Nope.”

“Can I—,”

“Done.”

“Tony—,”

“Finito. Over. To NOT be continued.” 

Bucky sighs his defeat. “Fine. Done.”

“Good. Now get out, I have work to do.” And with that, Tony turns around and slides back onto his stool, already whistling under his breath as he grabs the fallen wrench. Bucky stares at him for another moment before shaking his head, smiling to himself, and leaving him to his work.

He can’t wait to tell Steve and Koschei what just happened.


End file.
